


You Can't Wake Up; This Is Not a Dream

by Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson



Category: Iron Man (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Gun Violence, Mild Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7501809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/pseuds/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Imagine if Maria Stark died in the car accident but Howard survived the attack by the Winter Soldier. What if HYDRA decided to take him out again? And what if they used his own son to do it?</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Wake Up; This Is Not a Dream

An agonising scream from his Father's workshop caused Tony to pull his eyes away from his last minute revision. It wasn’t like he really needed to do it but his Father always insisted on his son revising whenever he was home.   
  
Tony’s eyes flickered up from his mechanics book, a heavy sigh escaping from his lips as another scream echoed through the house.  
  
What on earth was his Father trying to do this time?   
  
Grabbing his empty cup from his bedside table, Tony stretched his legs before getting up and heading downstairs. It seemed too empty without the faint sounds of Jarvis cleaning – their butler and his friend had gone on holiday, back to England to see some old friends, or family... Tony hadn’t really paid much attention when his Father had told him.  
  
Walking into the kitchen, Tony filled his cup with cold water from the fridge and took a few gulps. Turning, he went to head back to his room, only to pause and look down the hallway towards his Father’s workshop.   
  
Something didn’t feel right.  
  
He started walking down the hallway, only to jump back as the door to his Father’s workshop slammed open and a figure sprinted outside. The backdoor rattled in its frame as it was closed with force and Tony stared after the figure for a mere moment before he rushed into the workshop.  
  
Fear gripped him when he saw his Father on the floor, lying in a small pool of his own blood, gasping for air.  
  
"DAD!"  
  
Glass splintered around Tony’s feet as he dropped his glass on the floor, his drink licked at his feet, soaking his socks and he rushed forward to collapse by his Father’s side, breathing heavily.  
  
“D-Dad, stay calm; I-I’ll call an ambulance and-”  
  
“N-No, no ambulance. Tony listen to me, you have to listen to me.”  
  
Tony hesitated but nodded desperately, clinging to his Father’s hand as it reached up to him.  
  
“Remember _Captain America_? All those comics we would read together, how he would fight HYDRA?”  
  
Tony nodded, biting into his lower lip.  
  
“It’s all true, Tony. Every single story you read is the truth; every single _word_. Aunt Peggy and I have been fighting HYDRA since before you were born. That’s why I’ve spent so long working all the time; I’m not just working on Stark Industries. Do you understand?”  
  
Tony didn’t understand at all. There was too much information going into his head, making his brain ache and his heart pound. But he nodded; he did his best to make sense of everything going on.  
  
“HYDRA injected me with something – they’ve infected me and I can’t change it back. I was working on the cure for it, that’s why they injected me – they needed to stop me. I don’t have much longer, but what is inside me is going to change me – I can feel it changing me already. Tony you... you have to kill me or you’re going to get hurt.”  
  
Tony’s eyes widened as he stared at his Father on the floor, his breath catching in his throat and tears pouring down his cheeks. “D-Dad no, I’m not... I’m not doing that. I’ll call an ambulance and the hospital, they can... they can do something.”  
  
Howard’s hand reached up to fist in Tony’s shirt, a pained scream ripping from his throat. Tony watched his Father begin to seizure. Fear and dread began to twist in his stomach and he stumbled backwards, standing up and running.  
  
He sprinted towards the back door only to scream when he found it was locked. He spun around as quickly as he could, his feet carrying him through the house towards the front door, which he found was also locked. Tears streamed down his face quicker, and he slouched to the ground hugging his knees.   
  
What the hell had his Father been injected with?  
  
A roar from the workshop caused Tony to jump up; panic and adrenaline curling around his stomach, making him feel sick.  
  
Whatever it was, it had acted fast.  
  
_Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay ca- holy shit just run.  
  
_ Tony’s aching legs carried him to the living room, and he found himself in front of the safe, painting that covered it on the floor. In the back of his mind, he knew his Father had changed the code this month – Tony’s eyes widened when he realised he hadn’t had the time to crack it yet.  
  
Thunderous footsteps echoed around Tony’s hearing and he looked behind him, trying to remember how to breathe. He turned his attention to the safe, forcing himself to focus, to breathe. Flight or fight was starting to kick in; his mind was in survival mode. He stared at the lock combination pad and his fingers jammed in his birthday.  
  
Red lights flashed at him, the incorrect sound blaring out of it. He winced, knowing that his position had just been given away to his Father – no, to the monster that his Father had become.  
  
He tried his Father’s birthday, his Mother’s birthday, his Mother’s death date and his Father’s graduation date.  
  
Still, nothing happened except more flashing red lights and a high pitched squeal of _incorrect_. Tony could have sworn the safe was teasing him.  
  
His fist slammed against the cold metal box, and he fell silent, trying to listen over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.  
  
Heavy breathing drifted across the room and Tony dared himself to look over his shoulder. The sound of floorboards creaking slipped through the gap in between the living room door and the door frame.  
  
Moving as quickly as he dared, Tony silently made his way to his Father’s open briefcase on the floor and gently rummaged through it. Blueprints on the hovercraft that was to be showcased were on top, a _Captain America_ magazine was underneath that. There was a pack of _Captain America_ trading cards for that kid named Phil his Dad had taken a shining to – _the magazine_.  
  
Grabbing it, Tony scanned the cover for the issue number, eventually finding it. He rushed back to the safe, jamming 1159 into the keypad.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
Tony was about to scream in frustration before the safe made soft mechanical beeps, the sound of metal sliding on metal filling the room as the locks opened and the door popped open.  
  
A deathly silence followed before an almighty roar echoed around the house, followed by shaking as his Father – _no_ – the thing began to run through the house. Tony panicked, his hand reaching into the safe and closing around the smooth leather handle of the gun inside. As he pulled it out, his thumb clicked the safety off, and he stuck it out, turning around.  
  
Tony’s breath caught in his throat as the monster that was still recognisable as his Father slowly stepped towards him.  
  
His muscles were strained against his bare arms, the veins looking as though they might burst out of his skin. Bulbous lumps of puss were dotted across his shoulders; scraps of the beige shirt his Father had been wearing stuck to some of them, the dots of liquid looking almost as though they were bubbling under the fabric. Long, ragged nails adorned his feet and hands; the ones on his feet left deep gauges in the wooden floor as each foot dragged across the oak flooring. The face was almost untouched; it was enlarged, grotesque and an eye was much larger than it should be, but it was still recognisable as Howard Stark.  
  
Bile rose in Tony’s throat and he did his best to hold the gun steady.   
  
“S-Stay back; D-Dad I know you can hear me. P-Please stay back.”  
  
Only a roar came in response and the creature broke out into a run. It only got one step before Tony closed his eyes and screamed, letting off all the rounds in the gun.  
  
The faint smell of burnt powder filled Tony’s nose and he shook his head, collapsing to the floor, breathing heavily. His thighs pressed against his chest as he sniffled, breathing heavily before he threw the gun away from him, his arms wrapping around his knees.   
  
Slowly, his eyes opened and he blinked a little. Four gunshot wounds littered its chest, one on its shoulder and a bullet wound rested right between its eyes.  
  
Tony dissolved into howling sobs and buried his face in his jeans. One of his tears slipped down a hole in his jeans, making his leg tense against the feeling of the liquid.  
  
He’d just killed his own father, orphaned himself. He had no one other than Jarvis – who wouldn’t be back for another month.  
  
What happened now?

-xox-

The grandfather clock chimed for three am, the second time it had gone since Tony had shot the gun. He was still curled up in the same place, terrified eyes peering over his knee caps at the body.  
  
It took Tony a moment to register the sound of the door opening and carefully, he looked up. Aunt Peggy was walking into the room, followed by numerous men in suits. Peggy stared at the body on the floor for a moment, the widening of her eyes the only sign of surprise or horror.  
  
It was probably both.  
  
She took a deep breath and then made her way to crouch down in front of Tony.

“Come on, Tony; I think we need to get you away from here.”  
  
“Can I-I stay with you?”  
  
“Of course you can.”  
  
Tony took her outstretched hand, and stood up with her, following her outside to the car he was so used to. Aunt Peggy headed back to the house, talking to a different man in a suit. Tony clambered inside the back seat, staring out the window without really taking anything in.   
  
His eyes caught a body bag, much too big to be a human, and it finally hit him what had happened. Sobs started racking his body again and he pounded the chair in front of him with his fists, not caring at the sound of his knuckles cracking and possibly fracturing.   
  
He stared at the flecks of blood on his skin, on his clothes, and could taste iron in his mouth. He was covered in his own Father’s blood.  
  
His eyes stared at the body bag being loaded into a van and he whimpered softly, trying not to cry.  
  
“Please wake up Daddy...”


End file.
